Alan’s mouth went dry. So this is how it ends. Fighting for survival like some kind of slave in ancient Rome.
Alan put his back to the pit wall and sunk down to a seated position next to Kyle.
The two sat there, each lost to his own spectrum of thought. Alan’s mind kept turning back to Seraphim. How could this be the end when their beginning had just started? There was so much he still wanted to tell her. “We’re not going to die tomorrow,” Alan said, breaking the silence.
Kyle looked up with a grimace. “Yeah, and why’s that?”
“Because I will do whatever it takes to survive. With or without powers, I’m not going to die and I’m not going to let you die either.”
---
Seraphim wove her way through the Temple, searching for Gideon’s workplace. The angel was a master inventor, his most notable work being a collar made of celestial material that inhibited a supernatural being’s power. One of these gadgets was being used on Gabriel as he was held prisoner in the depths of the Temple’s dungeons.
The once leader, and now last remaining Death Angel, finally stopped at a thick wooden door. Smoke and steam shot from underneath the wood at sporadic intervals. Unsure what she was getting herself into, Seraphim opened the door.
The massive workroom was alive with billowing fires and machines spitting steam into the already thick air. Seraphim’s eyes watered as she looked through the room, searching for Gideon. She caught sight of the inventor at the far end of the chamber as he leafed through a thick book.
“Gideon?”
The angel looked startled from his work as he searched through the smoke and heat for his visitor. Black grease marks lined the edges of his eyes. He adjusted a pair of heavy goggles on the top of his head. “Well, hello there, Seraphim. Please, please come in. What can I help you with?”
“What are you doing in here?”
“Oh,” Gideon walked over to where Seraphim stood in the center of the room and showed her the book he was looking at. His finger drifted to a specific page, where a picture was drawn in charcoal.
Seraphim examined the drawing, but it didn’t look like anything to her. The only thing she could make out was an old building with a large circle made of stone sitting inside a room. “Okay, this doesn’t help. I still don’t know what this is.”
“Oh, right,” Gideon said. “Sorry. I’m working on a way to unite the planes again. Once you rescue Alan and fend off the Apocalypse, the supernatural and human planes will have to be brought back in sync.”
The way Gideon spoke with such faith confused Seraphim. Before she could mouth a reply, the eccentric angel continued. “I’m far from a final product, but I think if we can build the machine at the site of one of the Seven Ancient Wonders, there will be enough power to correct the course of the planes.”
“How are you so sure we’ll free Alan and be victorious when the Horsemen meet? Shouldn’t we be working on that first?”
Gideon smiled and closed his book. “Everything that happens, happens for a reason, even if we might not be able to see it yet. It will turn out for good; I believe that.”
Seraphim fought back the memories of the men and women who died under her command. Driven mad by Gabriel’s spell, they had turned on one another. How had that worked for good?
Instead of debating Gideon on his statement, Seraphim was reminded of why she had sought out the angel in the first place. “Gideon, do you know where Kassidy’s steed is kept?”
A look of confusion came off Gideon’s face for only a second before he nodded. “Oh, sorry. Fumes getting to me for a moment. Kassidy is the Horseman of Famine. Of course, her ‘horse’ would be the gryphon.”
“That’s right.”
Gideon tapped a dirty finger on his bearded chin. “If memory serves right, it should be in the higher levels—the northeastern corner of the Temple. It should still be sleeping until it is awoken for the final battle.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course. Seraphim, there was nothing you could have done.”
“Excuse me?”
“I saw it in your eyes when I said ‘everything comes to pass for a reason.’ You wanted to argue the fact that the Death Angels are gone, driven mad by Gabriel. Trust me that even that horrible tragedy is all part of a greater plan. Bad things, evil things, are allowed to happen. We aren’t robots; free will leaves room for the darkness inside us to act. But even this is all within a plan. With time, you will see.”
Seraphim couldn’t help herself. Her anger was at a boiling point. What did he know of her loss? She was doing all she could to control her sadness and rage, and here he was poking her, prodding her toward remembering, toward dealing with the thoughts she so desperately was trying to repress. “I’ve heard enough, Gideon. Maybe you are right. But all I feel in my heart now is rage. When the time comes to attack Sodom’s army, my enemies will feel my wrath. And I will rest assured that is all within your ‘grand plan’.”
This isn’t me, Seraphim thought to herself as she left Gideon’s workshop. I’m a warrior now, not a leader, and certainly not some kind of gryphon tamer. I’m coming, Alan. Hold on … I’m coming.
Chapter 6
“How does it feel?”
Tracy looked up at Ardat through eyes large with wonder. “It feels … it feels easier, I think. It’s not a natural motion yet, but my wings come out like—like an extension of my thoughts.”
Ardat nodded along with the girl’s summary of her ability. Her emerald-green wings were pulsing with energy as they rustled gently behind her. The midday sun was high in the sky, and a soft salty breeze came in from the sea. The two women were on the stone bridge, training Tracy on the abilities she would need for the coming conflict.
If Ardat was honest with herself, she was happy with the quick progress Tracy was making. However, it was not in her nature to praise someone with a job well done. The Shaman had left before Tracy awoke that morning, restating she must be ready for the ominous clash of the Horsemen. These thoughts echoed in Ardat’s mind. “You can summon your shield for defense,” Ardat said, “you can call on your wings, but you still don’t know how to fly.”
Tracy bit her bottom lip in dread. “Fly?”
“Yes, what did you think? You were given wings for decoration?”
Tracy craned her neck to look back at her glowing appendages. She leaned against a side of the stone bridge for support. “This is a lot.”
“What is?”
“All of this,” Tracy said, taking in the scenery with an outstretched arm. “A supernatural plane, angels and demons, the fact that I’m Disease, one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. And why did I have to get Disease, anyway? Who was in charge of that? That’s so gross. What are the other ones? Is there a Horseman of fashion or charisma?”
Ardat shook her head. “The four titles—Death, Disease, War, and Famine—are placed randomly on those deemed worthy of the calling. You could have just as likely been Death or War.”
“Great, that makes me feel better. One minute, I’m scheduling vacations in Bali and getting a mani-pedi, the next I’m training for a battle to fend off the Apocalypse for the next thousand years.”
“You were chosen because you could handle the task,” Ardat said firmly. “Don’t start doubting yourself again. You have the strength, even if you don’t know it yet. Now, if you want food and rest to be a part of your near future, you’re going to have to learn how to fly.”
---
Night turned to day in the pit Alan and Kyle called their prison. With no special powers, escape was impossible. Even if Alan could somehow talk Kyle out of his resolve to die, the crater that served as their prison was too deep to escape.
Along with the pain from the beating at Sodom’s hands, came stabs of hunger. Alan was forced to remember it had been a full day since he had food or water.
Sometime during midday, a group of Fallen, led by Rolf, reached the edge of the pit. “You two,” Rolf said, motioning his men to lower a
rope ladder into their earth prison, “your time has come. Sodom has prepared something special for you as you depart this world.”
Alan considered not playing their game. He wasn’t going to make it any easier for them than he had to. It seemed Rolf was well aware and prepared for this behavior. “If you do not come,” Rolf said with a sneer, “then I’ll kill you were you stand. Your life means nothing to me. Archers.” Rolf motioned with his hand again.
Alan winced at the pain in his body as he turned in a 360-degree revolution. At the edge of the pit in all directions, soldiers had appeared with strung bows. Evil-looking grins on their faces accompanied a dozen black, barbed arrows pointed at Alan and Kyle.
If hope for escape still existed, it wasn’t in the pit. Alan limped to the rope and painfully pulled himself up hand over hand. As he reached the top, he was yanked the last remaining feet by two large demons wearing black armor. In seconds, his hands were tied behind his back with a thick rope that cut off circulation to his fingers.
“And you?” Rolf asked Kyle, who still sat with his back to one of the sides of the pit. “What will it be? Death where you sit?”
“You’re going to kill me either way,” Kyle said, looking up through a bruised right eye. “Does it really matter if you kill me here or up there?”
Rolf cocked his head to one side, thinking on Kyle’s words. “No, to me it doesn’t matter. But Sodom wants to see you die in a contest rather than a hole in the ground.”
Rolf looked at one of the archers and nodded.
Alan was so confused as to what would happen next, he opened his mouth to shout a warning to Kyle. A fist from the guard on his left doubled him over and another split his lip wide open.
Alan could only watch as the archer Rolf nodded to lowered his weapon and, instead, extended his arms. As if he was made of rubber, the demon’s arms and hands stretched far past their normal limit and wrapped around Kyle’s body. Held in a firm grasp, Kyle was lifted from the pit and placed beside Alan.
If Kyle was surprised, he didn’t show it. His face remained as blank as ever as he was bound and forced to stand next to Alan.
Without a word, Rolf turned his back and walked deeper into the demon encampment. Alan and Kyle were half-pushed, half-carried along. There was no chance to try to talk to Kyle.
What Alan did have an opportunity to do was study the interior of the enemy camp. Everywhere, black tents sprouted from the ground. Scores of Fallen angels stood outside, staring and jeering as the two powerless Horsemen were escorted from the pit.
“Not so tough now!”
“Let’s see those blue wings of yours, Horseman!”
Alan ignored them as he searched for a way to escape, anything at all that might give him an opportunity to run. There was nothing except tents and enemies as far as Alan could see.
Soon, Alan heard a different kind of noise past the mocking and laughter. It sounded like a low rumble. As the sound grew in intensity, Alan knew what he was hearing was a large gathering. Hundreds, maybe thousands of voices were calling out as one, chanting and roaring.
Alan’s heart sank even lower as the outline of a coliseum crested the tops of the tents. “Not as large as we would have liked,” Rolf said, slowing his pace and walking next to Alan, “but it’ll have to do. You should be honored that games were set in motion to mark your death.”
“I’m overjoyed,” Alan said without taking his eyes off the structure.
Time passed much too fast as Alan approached the coliseum and got a clearer view of the building that was meant to mark his death. The coliseum was shabby and ill constructed. A variety of different colored wood planks and rocks were thrown together in such a way that Alan was surprised it was standing. The outside walls stood three stories tall. An arch was set inside one of the walls with a ramp that led downward.
“Well, this is where we part,” Rolf said. “I’ll be waiting to see you die in the coliseum. Try to last more than a few minutes. It took the men the entire night to construct this for you.”
“I’ll be looking for you,” Alan said with sarcasm.
Rolf grinned and walked away.
As Alan and Kyle were escorted below ground, the noise coming from above thundered in his ears. The newly carved earthen walls shook with the clamor, sending tiny pools of earth falling from the ceiling like a small hourglass without a case.
Torches lit either side of the tunnel. Alan and Kyle were shown to a large room, where two groups of prisoners waited. The metal gate was unlatched and Kyle and Alan were shoved inside. Some of the others within the cell Alan recognized as angels, others he did not.
A murmur came from their ranks as someone pushed forward and helped Alan to his feet. It was Seraphim.
She was smiling at him as she brushed blood off his face and began to remove his bonds. “It’s me. You didn’t think I was going to leave you, did you?”
---
For the next few minutes, Alan sat stunned. The joy he felt at seeing the woman he had grown to love turned to sorrow much too swiftly. If Seraphim was there, it meant she was in as much danger as he was.
“How?” Alan managed once Seraphim had freed him.
“I surrendered. It was one of the hardest things I had to do. Every fiber in my being told me to rip their throats out, but the enemy camp is too large to try to fight through. I knew surrendering would be the fastest way to find you.”
“But Sera, you’re here now. They’re going to kill us.”
“Well, then if we die, Alan Price, we die together.”
Alan managed a weak smile.
“If you love birds are done, we should probably come up with some kind of plan … because right now, it looks like the plan is to die. And we should think of something besides dying.”
Alan looked up into the dark eyes of a stranger. He was tall with long black hair pulled into a ponytail. “Who are you?”
“A prisoner, just like you.”
“A demon,” Seraphim said, standing to face the man. “We are nothing like you.”
The stranger gave Seraphim a hard stare. “Take it easy there, ginger. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?”
“Wrong.”
Others in the room picked up on the heated conversation and soon, the prisoners formed ranks staring at one another with menace. On one side, what made up the larger part of the prison population were Alan, Seraphim, Kyle, and other angels Alan recognized. On the other side was a handful of scrappy strangers Alan could only guess were some kind of deserters or enemies of the demon cause.
One thing Alan knew is that friends, just like hope, were in short supply. If there was a chance these Fallen angels would side with them, swelling their numbers inside the coliseum, then Alan was willing to take the risk. “Wait,” Alan said, walking between the two factions with his arms raised. “Who are you?”
“They’re scum,” Seraphim spit. “Demon mercenaries.”
“If your girlfriend would let me talk, I’d introduce myself. My name’s Bobby. Honestly, she’s not too far from the truth. We are mercenaries. I am a demon or Fallen angel, whichever you like.”
“How did you get here?” Alan asked.
Bobby shrugged. “I’m not a fan of the straight and narrow, but neither do I want to see Sodom in control of the world. If he does bring about the Apocalypse, he’s bound to be placed as the Usurper’s right hand. Sodom is a psychopathic lunatic. A world where he’s in charge is a scary place. When we said we wouldn’t fight for him, he had us thrown in here, branded as traitors.”
“And just when we thought things couldn’t get any worse,” a girl behind Bobby said through slanted eyes, “Sodom lumped us in with the captured angels.”
The way the two factions stared at one another through hate-filled eyes, Alan knew he had to do something soon or they wouldn’t even make it to the arena. As much as he hated siding with any kind of Fallen angel, it seemed as though this was his only choice.
“I understand that years at w
ar has made you hate one another,” Alan said, looking to Bobby and the girl behind him, then to Seraphim and the angels next to her. “I’m not asking you to forgive or even forget. All I’m saying is that to survive, we may have to hold off killing each other here. Like it or not, we have a common enemy.”
The tension in the room was almost tangible. For a brief moment, Alan thought Seraphim was going to lunge at Bobby, disregarding everything Alan had just said. To his surprise, her reaction was the exact opposite. “If not killing them for now means a chance at escape and Sodom’s downfall, then I can wait.”
Alan tried to hide his shock as he looked to Bobby and those beside him for an answer.
“I agree with the ginger. This is the smartest play,” Bobby said with a smile.
Alan let a deep breath escape his lungs. Before anyone could say another word, Sodom’s soldiers appeared at the entrance to their prison. “Get ready, you filthy lot of corpses; the games are about to begin.”
Chapter 7
Seeing the wonder in someone’s eyes as they flew for the first time was something Ardat had forgotten. As expected, Tracy was a natural. Once she got over her initial fear, she was able to maneuver through the sky like she had been performing the act for years.
Ardat hovered in a position over the lighthouse as Tracy wove through the air, doing figure eights and dives. Tracy’s wings were flapping behind her as if they were enjoying the act as much as she was.
“This is amazing,” Tracy said as she came to an awkward standstill beside Ardat. Her wings trembled and her body bobbed up and down as she fought to find the right tempo for her wings to flap that would allow her to hover in the air.
“You’re learning faster than I would have thought,” Ardat said.
Tracy beamed.
“Defense and flying are a good start, but you’ll need to learn how to attack if you’re going to survive the …”
Alan Price and the Horsemen of the Apocalypse Page 4
